


I'll See You at Midnight

by hubflower



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9087712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hubflower/pseuds/hubflower
Summary: After the fall of the Institute, Veronica left the Brotherhood and Minutemen behind. On the last day before a new year, however, Veronica finds herself missing him more than she thought possible.





	

An icy blast pounded against the northern wall of the house, causing the weakened boards to groan against one another. Thin, piercing tendrils of wind made their way through the cracks, chilling Veronica to the bone. She pulled the threadbare quilt around her shoulders, and took a step closer to the fire in the hearth. By now, it was merely a pile of glowing embers, but if the wind kept up at this pace, it would soon be reduced to ashes. With as grim, dark, and lonely as the home sat, it was hard to imagine that just hours ago, it had been bright, warm, and full of the cheer of friends.

After the Institute had fallen, and the Brotherhood of Steel and Minutemen had risen to unify and strengthen the Commonwealth, she had decided to lay down her roles as General and Sentinel, and escape to the shore for retirement. Preston had been disappointed, yet understanding. He understood that some wounds would never heal. Still, he, and the rest of the friends she had made during her travels, would come throughout the year to check in on her, keep her company, and allow her a chance to truly rest. Most recently, they had all come for Christmas - a old-world tradition they never knew, but kept alive for Veronica's sake. Sturges and Danse had chopped down a barren tree and brought it inside for Cait and Piper to decorate with tin can ornaments. MacCready helped Nick hunt down a radstag and roast it over the hearth. Hancock ensured the libations flowed freely. Preston helped pass out small gifts wrapped in Boston Bugle's, that Veronica had found or made for each of them. Even Deacon had appeared for a short while, although only Veronica had seen him. It was a special time, and with everyone in the house, Veronica had finally gotten some sleep. She smiled more than she had since their last visit, and even joined in when they attempted some Christmas carols. As they sat around the fire, just before they left, she felt almost whole, but there was still one person missing, and he was missing still.

Veronica and Maxson's relationship had started passionate and intense - power plays and torrid affairs. Through the time they spent together in fighting the Institute, however, it had become something real. When the switch was flipped, and the Institute was eliminated, it was Maxson who had scooped a screaming Veronica off of the highrise roof and taken her back to the Prydwen, where they spent weeks alone in his quarters, finding how they would each move on. It was in those whispered conversations that Veronica had decided to move to the coast, and Maxson had decided that he would give up everything to be there with her. That was, until there was a knock at the door, and a briefing handed to the young Elder. The Citadel was under attack by a growing threat in the Capital Wasteland. Hundreds had died, and all hands were needed to prevent the fortress from being taken. Those hundreds included Fiona, his mother's sister, who had become like a mother to him after Jessica had passed. Without question, Veronica told him to go, and that she would be waiting for him when he returned. The day before the Prydwen was set to leave, they had stood on the porch of the house in which she now shivered, and he vowed to come back to her. He then had gently placed his dogtags around her neck, and gave her a kiss that told her more than words ever could. The last she had seen of him was two blue eyes, gazing down on her, as the Vertibird rose to take him back to the Prydwen's decks.

Through the past three years, she had only heard from him 4 times, and all were through letters. They detailed the fight, which wasn't going well. Even with reinforcements from the West, the new network of raiders was almost too strong, even against the might of the Brotherhood. He also shared his intense love for her, in a poetic manner that surprised her. She kept the letters in a small box, next to her, and she visited them often. They were faded and wrinkled, and the ink ran in spots from flowing tears. Especially now, on a night so dark, missed him more than she ever thought possible. It had been over a year since his last letter, and on nights like these, she wondered if he was coming home. With a lump in her throat, she wondered if the worst had happened. Would they even come to her? Would a sharply dressed Scribe come to her door with a folded Brotherhood flag and a tale of a heroic tragedy? The thought made her wrap her blanket tighter around her, and she started towards the corner, where her bed lay.

_Thump_

Veronica quickly turned on heel towards the noise at the front door, and her breath hitched in her throat.  Had her daydreaming really been a premonition?  Would she open the door to seal her fate?  Of course, maybe she was overreacting.  It was a windy night.  Maybe something had simply fallen victim to the howling gale and been thrashed against the door.  Slowly, she made her way towards the door, the floor making an eerie creak as she went.  Holding her breath, she reached for the knob, turned it, and slowly cracked open the door.  And there it was...  _nothing_.  Veronica opened the door further and looked around to investigate, but there was no Scribe, nor was there a branch or rock.

Releasing her breath, she went to shut the door, when something on the porch caught her eye. Rolled up at her feet was what looked to be a newspaper, bound with a small leather strap. Veronica stooped to pick it up, and with a quick glance to ensure nobody was nearby, she shut the door and hurried inside.

As she untied the strap and unrolled the paper, she wondered if this was really happening. Perhaps she had died of hypothermia, and this was a vision before death. Or Hancock's rum had finally caught up with her, and she was fast asleep in bed. Still, curiosity got the best of her. The headline immediately caught her eye. "BROTHERHOOD RECLAIMS RIGHTFUL HOME." Reading, she read about the Brotherhood's victory in the Capital Wasteland. Her heart fluttered when it mentioned Maxson's role in the triumph. If this was real, then maybe he would come back to her soon. She reread the article over and over, committing each word to memory. Her heart swelled with pride for his success, and it made it feel as if the past three years had been worth it. Even still, it had been three years without him. Three years that he could have been here on a cold night, wrapping his protective arms around her. Folding the paper neatly, she went and placed it with the letters in the small box. As she made her way, she noticed the time on her PipBoy. Only 15 minutes left until the new year. Even with this news, it would still be starting a new year without him.

_Thump_

As before, her head snapped to the door. Had she gone insane? Was she really dead? Perhaps so, because what else could explain a paper on her doorstep? Again, she wrapped her blanket around her and cautiously moved towards the door. This time, she grabbed her 10mm from the nightstand and stuffed it into the waistband of her sweatpants. Before opening it, she pressed her ear to the door for any signs of danger, but all she could hear was the howling wind. Carefully, she opened the door, which revealed an empty porch, with nothing at her feet. Opening further revealed much of the same - a dark, windy night with a backdrop of crashing waves. Disappointed, she started to carefully shut the door, when voice called from beside the house, "Wait!" Without hesitation, she drew her pistol, and aimed towards the voice, wondering which raider was about to meet his maker. Heavy footsteps could be heard from that direction, and soon a broad frame came into view. A very familiar broad frame. The pistol dropped from her hands. It wore a familiar fur-lined coat. Tears began to prick at her eyes. Then, he turned to face her, and those blue eyes she was worried she'd forget stared back at her. Before she could run to him, Maxson strode around the porch, up the three steps, and crashed into her.


End file.
